Combeferre's Dilema
by AnnaLiz2012
Summary: In which Combeferre is Enjolras' roomie, and gets a bit of a shock on returning from the Musain one night.. Set in 2013, and hopefully better than it sounds! (Hopefully the rating is right too, if not, please let me know!) xx
1. Chapter 1

I know I shouldn't be posting this, since I haven't updated Eponine? in forever... But I've kind of lost inspiration for that one at the mo, and this has just popped into my head without any warning at all while revising for my A Levels at stupid o'clock in the morning (2:15am..). Anyway, hopefully my other fic will get back in gear after my exams, but until then, I leave you with this :) As always, feedback is very much appreciated!

AnnaLiz xx

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Enjolras sat at his desk, chewing the top of his pen while idly twirling his golden curls around his fingers. He was deep in thought, as always, but, for some reason, the words just wouldn't flow tonight. His relatively calm exterior did not betray his inner turmoil. Unless a person got close enough to really look into the student's ice blue eyes, they would not see the distress reflected there.  
"Why can't I do this?!" He roared suddenly, ripping his hand from his head and slamming it on the desk in anger, causing the solid wood to shudder and various papers to flutter to the floor, only angering the revolutionary further. It was when he lay forward against the desk, burying his head in his arms, that he felt a strange tickling against his cheek. Raising his eyes, he found a blonde tuft stuck between his fingers. _His hair._ The colour entranced him; he'd never looked at his hair that closely before. Slowly, he lifted his head to get a better look, running his hand up and down the strands he had tugged out of his head in his anger. He hadn't even noticed the pain. _How strange…  
_  
Combeferre was late coming home that night, he'd been having too much of a good time to leave, and he knew his flatmate would appreciate the extra few hours of quiet in which to do his essays. However, his slightly drunken mind was not prepared for the sight that met him when he stumbled into their flat at 4am that morning. Enjolras was slumped over a pile of papers, asleep. Nothing unusual there. There were scraps of paper, pens and various textbooks scattered across the room, obviously thrown there by his room-mate in a fit of frustration. Again, nothing unusual. The man's hand was pressed against his head, like he'd fallen asleep leaning on it; all normal behaviour. However, what caught his eye, and shocked him immediately into sobriety, was the pile of blonde curls lying on top of Enjolras' desk, and the angry red and irritated patch of bare flesh that could not be hidden by his long, elegant fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

Just read back through the 1st chapter, appreciate those who have followed this so much! Thank you, arcentz and lovelesmis24601 you beautiful people *mwah*. Just thought I'd better clear something up, the time period between the 1st and 2nd paragraphs is about 8-10 hours, and my Combeferre is inspired by the gorgeous Killian Donnelly, Enjolras is Aaron :)

PS - I don't own Les Mis, booo :( Forgot that in the last one, bet you all thought I was Victor Hugo for a moment...! Haha.

* * *

Combeferre remained stationary in the doorway as he worked to comprehend what it was that he was actually seeing. His best friend had _pulled out his own hair._ He was completely at a loss for what to do, though his rational self was telling him to get Enjolras to bed. Away from the knotted blonde tangles. Cautiously padding over the floor, which was thickly carpeted with crumpled paper, he placed a gentle hand the other man's shoulder.  
"Come on, mon ami..." He earned a low growl in response as well as the opening of one pale eye, prompting a strained laugh.  
"It's time for bed... You fell asleep in your work again, idiot." Combeferre tried to ease the unnamed emotion that was setting itself in the very core of his being, but the next noise that came out of his mouth, he intended to chastise his friend for working himself so hard _again_, came out as more of a strangled squeal, fully waking the blonde who lifted his head at the noise, a frown creasing his pale features.  
"Are you alright 'Ferre..? You're acting a little odd..." He touched his arm, concern batting away his irritation at being woken, and he found that he was shrugged off, although it was rather more roughly than had been intended.  
"Can we talk in the morning... I'm just exhausted..." Combeferre had never been so happy as when Enjolras stood and got ready for bed without another word, save a small nod in response to his question. _Now all he had to do was figure out how he would go about asking..._

He waited until he heard Enjolras' soft snores before picking up his phone again from his bedside table. Hovering over Courfeyrac's number, he decided against it. Who could the guide turn to when he needed assistance? Who was there really, aside the man he wanted to talk about, who would be able to provide him with the words he needed… _Jehan_. He dialed the number instinctively, praying that the younger man wouldn't be asleep yet.  
"'Ferre..? I was sleeping… What's wrong..?" He could hear the confusion in his voice, the worry and the slight undertone of affection, and before he knew what was happening, Combeferre burst into tears. The salty rivers flooded in torrents down his face, soaking the duvet beneath him.  
"Ok baby, I'll be there soon, hold on…" The voice was soothing, a warm comfort that his bewildered mind desperately needed.


	3. Chapter 3

I know I've already posted a chapter today, and really I should be sleeping, but this just wouldn't leave me alone. It was particularly hard to write, but I hope I've done Enjy justice... Jehan is Alistair Brammer, just because his portrayal is just the most precious little thing! Sorry if he's not quite as poetic as he should be... Love to my reviewers, you're both stars :) and hi Snobbydobby, thanks for following! *mwah* xx

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Jehan threw his arms around his as soon as the door opened, starting a new rush of tears streaming down Combeferre's face.  
"Shhh… Hush darling… I'm here…" They collapsed on the sofa together, concern flooding from the poet as he cradled his friend, his own eyes welling with tears.  
"'Ferre what is it… Please… Tell me…" He whispered into his ear, fluttering sweet, soothing kisses down his cheeks, up over his closed eyelids, kissing away the tears that had rendered 'Ferre speechless.  
"Enj…" Stammering out the name was all he could manage, before presenting precious Jehan with the hair that had been left on the desk, like some form of grim ornament.  
"Heaven and earth, what is going on..?" The poet's eyes looked into the guide's searching for an answer that neither of them knew; that they could not possibly understand.  
"He pulled his hair out Je… I don't know what to do… You should have seen…" He reeled off the story, tears springing to his eyes as he recalled the events of just an hour previously. Enjolras, slumped over the desk, a raw patch of flesh where the hair had been stripped away by nimble fingers which had found something better to do than write essays…

Enjolras awoke at the sound of Jehan coming in, but sensibly stayed put, stayed still, listening to his friends discussing him. Discussing him and his so-called problem. It wasn't a problem, not to him, it isn't even that noticeable...  
"For goodness sake 'Ferre, get yourself together…" Mumbling to himself, Enjolras twisted another hair around his fingers, giving a sharp tug and feeling the pop he had come to love. Running his fingers down its length, he gently slipped the root from the bottom with a nail, rolling it into a little ball between his fingers, before letting the hair fall down behind his bed as he contemplated what to do next. It didn't take him long to decide, and even less time to actually do. Twisting an arm around the back of his head, he wrapped a thick curl around his fingers. Horrifyingly thick; so thick it took him four attempts to wrench it from his skull, four agonizing pulls before he could look down at the loose tangle of hair and flesh in his hands. He could feel a warm sensation down the back of his head, curling around his ear and rolling slowly down his neck. He felt relaxed, for the first time in so so long. He could forget, forget everything. His studies, his parents, _his feelings…_ He thought back to the moment, earlier that evening, when he had pulled out the first hair. He thought about the sense of satisfaction it had given him. He thought back to that moment and the quote he had been reading as he'd done it, that had inspired him to do it; _Pain is the cleanser._


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys, so here's the next chapter, and it's a little bit longer! It would really really mean a lot to me if some of you lovely people could give me some feedback, because I don't think that this is my best piece of writing by a long stretch, but I just can't seem to make it go differently... Would love some opinions :) And other than that, I hope you *enjoy* (if that's the right word for this particular fic!) Merci, much love xx

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"'Ferre...?" The soft whisper, combined with gentle stroking of his hair woke him early the next morning, squinting in the half light.  
"'Ferre wake up... I think I've done something stupid..." His roommate was knelt beside the best, watching him with an intensity that worried him, his tired brain snapping into alertness. There had to be something wrong for the blonde leader to wake him, the only person who he had come to accept waking him was Jehan, when he wanted an opinion on a piece of poetry. Or maybe Joly…  
"Wassup E...? Talk to me... I'm not called the guide for nothing..." He laughed, though it came out as a completely different sound when Enjolras turned side on to him, and he realised that almost half of the blonde curls had disappeared, the skin looking angrier and more tender than it had just a few short hours ago.  
"What on earth have you done..." Bowing his head meekly he took the other man's hand and led him to his own room, showing a devastated Combeferre his brand new golden carpet. The tall man's voice was barely a whisper, making him sound more like a child who'd done something wrong.  
"I'm sorry…"

The Café Musain was strangely quiet; Combeferre, after refusing to leave Enjolras at home alone, was now sat at their table, watching Jehan pretending to be engrossed in his poetry while he tracked the blonde's pacing movements back and forth in front of him, twisting a bright red beanie in his hands. Blue eyes danced around the room before dropping to the floor, revealing the true anxiety that was hidden behind the marble façade. _Enjolras was afraid of what his friends might say._ It had taken kind little Jehan presenting him with the hat he was now clinging to like a lifebelt for him to even agree to Combeferre's demand that he come out, as well as his room-mate threatening to burn his precious French flag; the present he had received from Les Amis on his sixteenth birthday and the only possession other than his books that Enjolras truly valued. The flag still held a huge sentimental value for him, even if he wouldn't admit it, because it was the very first gift he had ever been given. However, now, Enjolras was plagued by guilt. How could he inspire his friends, never mind anyone else, looking like this? How could he allow himself to be so _weak_..? But still he did it. The more stressed he became, the thicker the curls that he tugged at. He didn't feel the pain of it anymore, just the sickening sense of guilt and uselessness that settled in his stomach.

Jehan leaned into Combeferre's sturdy shoulder, gazing over at his friend as his large eyes prickled with unshed tears. Watching a person one idolises tear themselves apart is an agonising thing, he concluded. He knew Enjolras had the habit of retreating into himself sometimes, locking himself in his room with enough coffee to keep a small army awake for several months, despite his friends' concern. But that was what the blonde was, they all knew that, they knew how he worked. Enjolras was fighting against an army in his mind, constantly battling against himself to attain ever higher grades. They had always worried about him, but usually he left the battle relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, it seemed that the other army was winning this time.

His façade was cracking, but Enjolras was damned if he would let them see. He was the leader, the strong one, he couldn't let them believe he was suffering! Especially from a breakdown, good God above, he'd rather run himself through with a fork than allow that to happen. Thank goodness for Jehan and his hat, he could keep hiding all traces of his weakness. He was Enjolras, the leader, the rebel, the passion. He was the one with impeccable grades but a desire for more. He wanted to be recognised, for people to appreciate him. _I just want them to know who I am…_ His mind drifted to Grantaire who would no doubt arrive at any moment, ready with some smart remark. Even the thought of the teasing he endured from him made his heart ache tonight. Deep down, he desperately wanted to make the cynic believe. If he could do that, then maybe his family could believe in him too, and his teachers… _Everyone_. If a few lost hairs were to be the side effect of his quest for fulfillment then so be it. _So be it_.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi! I'm so so sorry for the delay on this update, I'm smack in the middle of my exams it is is RIDICULOUSLY stressful so I've barely had time to think, never mind write. Anyway, as a result, I apologise for the length and quality of this update, it's not my best but I hope it's alright - please let me know :) I feel I should also add that the time span of these events so far is from one night into the next evening, just to clarify :) Events such as these can and do occur and escalate this quickly.

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Grantaire had indeed arrived at the Musain, although slightly later and slightly more drunk already than had been anticipated. He had teased Enjolras particularly mercilessly, destroying his speech with his witty comments, and he had taken great pleasure in teasing him about his new item of headwear. However, when his drunken mind had decided that it would be fun to sneak up behind him and steal the hat from their leader's head, he had got more than he bargained for, demonstrated by the shrill squeal of horror that had left his lips. That was they were all now sat in front of the door to Enjolras and Combeferre's flat, behind which the blonde had built a barricade to keep them all out. Grantaire had sobered up immediately at the sight of the bare patch where blonde curls once sat. He tripped over himself in his efforts to apologise, something which would have stunned les Amis if they all hadn't been so shocked - Grantaire NEVER apologised - but they were all too busy staring at Enjolras, and the peculiar shade of grey that he seemed to have turned. He had stormed out just seconds later, his eyes narrow and cold as shards of ice.  
"Enj, open the door…" Combeferre sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in exasperation. He was tired, and didn't want to deal with his friend's shit right now.  
"Come on, please just let me in…"  
"Get lost 'Ferre!" Enjolras' voice was as stony as the glare they could all feel, as if it could penetrate the door. This is bad, very bad…  
"E, please, I'm sorry!" Grantaire tried pleading, his normally bright eyes dull with worry; he loved Enjolras deeply, they all knew that. He didn't mean to hurt him.  
"I didn't know, I…"  
"Just LEAVE. ME. ALONE." Enjolras all but roared at his friends, grabbing the nearest thing to him, which happened to be one of his precious textbooks, and hurling it ferociously at the door. The book collided with the wood with a thud that echoed around the room and brought tears to the blonde's eyes. He was still young, yet he felt like his whole life was being ripped out from under him; the very foundations of his being were under threat. As the thoughts took hold of him again he buried his hands deep into his hair, taking pleasure in the feeling of release that it gave him. He could feel the itching around the area he had pulled out the great chunk the night before, the area that Grantaire had spotted, and it infuriated him. Very carefully, he moved his fingers to the edge of the painful area, plucking single strands and relishing the relief that it provided him from the incessant itching. It didn't stop it for long though. _Why won't it stop…  
_

"My friends, I have a plan…" Courfeyrac, who was sat next to Combeferre and attempting to comfort the blonde philosopher as they saw in the fourth hour of them being sat on the landing, suddenly sat bolt upright. He had long ago noted how 'Ferre was starting to lose his mind with worry, and the fact that the rest of the group were panic-stricken; with the main question on the tip of everyone's tongue being, _if Enjolras is cracking, what will happen to us? _He had no idea what would happen to them, or how to comfort his devastated friend, but he knew Enjolras. He needed bait, and for the rest of the guys to leave them be for a while… _It had always worked before…  
_"He won't let 'Ferre go to him now, but..."Explaining in hushed tones to the group surrounding him, he quickly found approval for his idea. Mentally, they all slapped themselves for thinking of it sooner, it was so ridiculously simple. This ridiculously obvious but genius plan was how, an hour later, Courfeyrac found himself slipping in through the tiny gap made in Enjolras' 'barricade' to accomodate the opening of the door, a chunk of red velvet cake wrapped in a white tissue held in his outstretched palm as a peace offering.

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Another note... Never tried red velvet cake, but it seemed appropriate for Enjy to like it :D xx


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